A/N: *Sigh* Again, so sorry about the gaps between uploads, but you know… school, getting my driver's license, travels, etc. This is part 2 of Similar Situations and Shared Griefs, with some long-awaited (I'm looking at you, Lost-In-A-New-World) Cristina and Mark! And the Blackthorn kids make a small appearance, too :) As I mentioned in the first part of SSSG—look at me, making abbreviations for my work, now I'm a real fanfiction author—this is the same time frame, but different perspective, just like Guilt parts 1 and 2. Feel free to skip if you're not fond of Mark and Cristina ;) Translations for the Spanish phrases are at the bottom (excuse me if some of it is incorrect).

P.S. This is the longest chapter so far, whoop! Enjoy!

Home (Similar Situations and Shared Griefs Part 2)

A Blackstairs fanfic, by OTP-addict

"Are you sure you are okay?" Diego asked Cristina.

After a good three hours of tracking down a rogue vampire, and then disposing of it, they had both been beaten up well. But a few healing runes had done the job.

"Estoy bien, Diego," Cristina said, annoyance creeping into her head. For someone who was supposed to be oh-so-smart he was quite slow to understand that, yes, she was okay.

They walked together into the Institute, and Diego stopped just inside the entrance, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Do you smell that?" he asked.

Cristina sniffed the air experimentally. She frowned and turned towards Diego. "¿Comino?" she asked.

"If that means cumin, then yes," Emma said, appearing from the kitchen. "Julian and I made Mexican food—" She hesitated. "Well, that is, Julian made it and I cheered him on."

Cristina laughed, starting towards Emma to give her a hug. "Thank you," she said.

Diego was quietly smiling. Cristina guessed that he knew this was more for her than him.

"Well, let's not just stand here and let all that Mexican goodness go to waste!" Emma said, gesturing towards the kitchen. "You must be hungry."

They moved into the kitchen and sat down at the table where the rest of the Blackthorn children were already bustling about, finding their seats.

Christina watched them all. Dru looked at Diego dreamily, Livvy and Ty were—for the tenth time—in an argument about becoming parabatai, and Julian and Emma carefully avoided eye contact. Sitting at the table with her new family, Christina felt somewhat more at ease. The homely food and the familiar company was a relief and a blessing which Christina was completely and thoroughly grateful for. As she looked up, her eyes met Emma's, and they smiled at each other, Christina mouthing a silent 'thank you', Emma returning it with 'no problem'.

With a full belly and a warm heart, Cristina lay on her bed, reading. But even as she still felt the heat and love poured into the food and the previous conversation, her mood grew dimmer. So much time had passed since she had last been home, in the D.F., and she couldn't help but admit to herself that she missed it. She even missed her mother, tart remarks and all.

And with memories of her home and her family came of course the memories of how hurt she had been before she left. Even though she now knew that none of it had been real—at least on Diego's part—she could not stop the sinking feeling in her stomach that accompanied her doubts. What if he hurt her again? For real this time?

She needed to find him, to tell him about her fears, to make him promise not to hurt her again. She hurried out of her room, headed towards the library where she knew Diego was keeping up his academic skills, but when she rounded the corner of the hall leading to the library, she ran straight into Mark.

Suddenly she was against his chest, her bent head bumping awkwardly into his chin. She drew back, looked up, and said, "Sorry."

Mark exhaled in what Cristina assumed was supposed to be a laugh of some sort. "No, I'm sorry," he said. "I should have been looking where I was going."

"No, no," Cristina said. "I'm sorry, I was in a hurry. I didn't see you." This was a rare occurrence. She was noticing Mark more and more. She almost couldn't help it.

He smiled crookedly—which she found absolutely adorable—and said, "Are we just going to keep arguing about whose fault this is?"

Despite her gloomy mood the corners of Cristina's mouth pulled up into a small smile.

"You said you were in a hurry," Mark continued. "Where's the fire?"

Cristina's face fell, and she hesitated. She really did not know how Mark felt about her—emotionally, that is. The whole offer of a physical relationship he had given her had been such a disappointment to her. She had actually been able to see something real in him, something that told her she might be able to learn to trust someone with her heart again, after Diego.

And when she had cut his hair, she didn't know what would have happened had they not been interrupted. She had felt something, and it had seemed like Mark had felt something too.

She decided to just tell him. "I was going to go see Diego," she said, simply.

Mark nodded neutrally, and maybe she was imagining it, but she thought she saw a minuscule change in the set of his eyebrows—Does this upset him? she thought.

"Well, I guess you might as well—" he started.

"It's just…" The words were out of her mouth before she could even think of saying them. She didn't know why. "I miss my home," she continued. "I miss my family and my friends."

He nodded again, but this time the change in his expression was in a more gentle, compassionate direction.

"It is difficult," Cristina said, her gaze moved to the floor and her feet. She didn't know why she was still speaking—shouldn't she be talking to Diego about this? "I left in such a hurry that I didn't have time to think about the consequences, and how… how much I would miss it."

To her complete horror she felt tears welling up in her eyes and desperately looked up at a witchlight lamp, so that the bright light would drive away the tears. But the damage was done; Mark made a small sound of surprise and reached one of his hands up to cradle her face while the other wiped one escaped tear away.

His palm to her cheek, she looked into his gold and blue-green eyes, and what she saw there made her catch her breath. His eyes were full of warmth and affection, and she found herself unconsciously leaning into him.

He leaned in as well, and suddenly her head was full of butterflies, little thoughts conflicting with each other, battling: Should I kiss him? Should I pull away? How do I even feel about Mark? How do I even feel about Diego?

And then she was kissing him. And her entire being was flooded with a feeling unlike anything she had ever experienced before. Colors exploded behind her eyelids, an entire rainbow emerging. Warmth spread through her limbs, across her skin, burning her lips and piercing her heart. Her arms came up to wrap around Mark's neck as one of his circled around her waist, pressing her against him. His other hand was still resting gently against her jaw.

The butterflies in her head now invaded the rest of her body, a sensation most foreign. She felt like she had never been kissed before, like every touch, every caress she had ever shared with Diego had been a pale ghost of what it was supposed to be like. This—with Mark—was real, and she felt it as clearly as she felt her pulse rise and her cheeks flush.

As the seconds passed, the gentle sweetness of the kiss burned away to heat and wanting. Suddenly Christina found herself being pressed against the wall behind her, her hair as well as the back of her neck griped with eager force, and most surprisingly, she was responding with just as much passion as she was given.

They broke apart suddenly, both gasping for air. Cristina looked up at Mark, reading the same conflict and confusion in his eyes as she felt. Mark sighed and kissed her again, much more gently this time. Both his hands moved to cup her face, and she grasped his wrists with her own hands, breathing in Mark's smell. She faintly heard the sound of soft footsteps farther down the hall—

"¿Qué es esto?"

Cristina wrenched herself away from Mark so fast that his fingernails scratched her face lightly. "Diego," she breathed, her eyes pleading with the dark-haired boy standing in front of her. "I—"

"Cristina." Diego's voice was like a stab to her heart. His face was hurt, uncomprehending. Then, as his eyes moved to Mark, the hurt quickly became rage. "Who the hell do you think you are?!" he shouted at Mark, moving closer to the both of them while Mark started backing away.

"Look," Mark said, his voice careful, persuasive. "I'm sorry—"

"Sorry!" Diego barked. "You didn't look sorry with your hands all over Cristina—¡Diablo!"

"Stop it!" Cristina yelled. "It's not his fault, it's—"

"Yours?" Diego finished, sneering. He let out a short, bitter laugh. "See, you... you, Cristina, were all on about how I hurt you! Is this revenge? Is that what it is?" His voice was rising with each word, and Cristina began to worry that the other residents of the Institute would come running.

"No," Cristina began despairingly. "I don't know, Diego, I just…"

"You just what?" This time it was Mark speaking, surprising Cristina. She looked at him, then at Diego.

She took a deep breath, filling her lungs all the way, then letting it out in a rush of air. "I don't know how I feel," she said quietly. Both of them looked like she had slapped them across the face. The sudden silence was overwhelming after the shouting.

"Well, until you do, you stay away from her," Diego growled, pointing at Mark. Diego's eyes were blazing with fury.

"Not if she doesn't want me to," Mark retorted, his own eyes issuing a silent challenge.

Ay, madre mía, Cristina thought. Mark was not making things better, and the reaction was clear to see on Diego's face. If possible, his expression became even more enraged, and he took another long stride towards Mark, who stood his ground this time and raised his chin. "You—" Diego started, but Cristina scolded him once again.

"Diego!" she yelled sharply. "Don't. Cálmate."

Diego shot Mark another heated glare, then he turned and stormed away.

Cristina hesitated. Her eyes met Mark's, and she knew he could see the conflict in them. "I…" She didn't know what she meant to say, and either way she couldn't finish. Not with him looking at her the way he was, not with the still-lingering sensation of his hands on her body, like nothing she had ever felt. Instead she just bit her lip and said, "I need to be alone."

She turned and hurried away, away from both Mark and Diego, and she didn't look back.

A/N: Translations (yes, I am in fact learning Spanish and I've just been on my very first trip to Spain)

Estoy bien = I'm fine

Comino = cumin (no surprise there)

¿Qué es esto? = What is this?

¡Diablo! = The Devil

Ay, madre mía = basically like 'oh my God'

Cálmate = calm down